


Flickers In The Lives of A Man and Himself

by Uncoolacronym



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Multi, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 16:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uncoolacronym/pseuds/Uncoolacronym
Summary: Thomas and his aspects have lives beyond the videos. Stories, little flickers in time, pass by.(Just a one shot book that may or may not turn into something bigger.)





	1. Sleeping Problems

Anxiety hasn't slept in days. Sure, if he missed one or two every week or so, that wouldn't be too big of a deal, but this was getting out of hand. The man himself, famous for saying that sleep was pointless, wanted nothing more than to get some shut eye.

Not that he would tell the other sides. He was called Anxiety for a reason, after all. He also absolutely refused to ask Thomas to take some sleeping medicine, because he hasn't taken it in a while, and what if he has lost his immunity to medicine, and was too tired, and accidentally took too many because he was too tired to count, or because of the sleeping medicine he didn't wake up if someone broke into his house, or he slept through his alarms and missed his doctors appointment tomorrow, or-

Now that doesn't even make sense, but these are the kinds of things that ran through Anxiety's sleep boggled mind.

Anxiety yawned, rubbing his eyes with his sleeves, effectively smearing his eyeshadow. At this point, he didn't even care. He was in his room anyway, it's not like the other sides were suddenly going to pop in and say hello.

Why would they even check on him anyway?

"Screw this," he muttered to himself, snuggling further into his blanket, desperately trying to get some sleep, any sleep at all. After a few minutes, he changed position. After a few minutes, he changed position. After about an hour, he buried his head underneath his pillow. When he was starting to run out of air, he pulled his head out.

Eventually, after about five hours had passed, he decided to give up on sleeping. He sad up, frustrated tears welled in his eyes, and he angrily wiped him away. Day number five of this extreme insomnia would be no problem, as everything was pretty much fuzzy anyway.

No, that wasn't right. Not fuzzy, but plastic-like? Did that make sense? It was as if he was trapped in one of those penny machine plastic bubbles, but the air was thick.

He checked the time on his phone, which was a mistake. It was as if someone had shined a flashlight into his eyes. Before he threw his phone across the bed, he managed to see that it five something am.

Anxiety huffed as boredom overtook him. To diminish that a little bit, he decided to go and get some food from the kitchen.

He was too tired to process that noises for him were not as loud to the others, as they were in entirely different hallways and rooms, and jumped when his door creaked open. He would oil that later, but creaking doors were better in his opinion, as you could tell when they were being opened.

After a moment of listening for any signs that he had woken the others, Anxiety was met with silence. Satisfied with this, he started tiptoeing towards the kitchen.

"What are you doing awake?"

Anxiety whipped around to find.... no one there. Of course. Audio hallucinations were common symptoms that followed sleep deprivation, as well as visual ones. He really shouldn't be so freaked out by this.

He turned and resumed his trek to the kitchen, hissing at the brightness when he turned on the lights. Why can't there be half lights? Like lights but not as bright. That would be a million dollar invention.

He opened the fridge, peaking in and browsing the contents. There was Chinese, there was some fruits, salads, pizza- perfect!

After putting three slices on a plate, Anxiety stuffed in into the microwave, and started routing through the fridge for a drink. What was something what would put him to sleep? There was some hot chocolate packets in the cabinets, that much he knew. If he put the sink on the hottest setting, he could make a cup of hot cocoa.

Yes, that sounded like absolute heaven right now. He closed the fridge and turned towards the cabinets, letting out a choked gasp when a shadow darted across his vision.

"It's not real," he told himself, slowly walking over to the cabinets. "I'm just hallucinating."

He grabbed the hot cocoa mix, as well as a cup and spoon, then started making the hot chocolate. By the time he was done with that, the microwave went off, signaling that his pizza was done. Anxiety gathered his stuff and sat down at the table, scrolling through tumblr on his phone with his free hand. At least tumblr was there, when no one else was.

It was always fun to watch ship wars, even when he wasn't in the fandom. He couldn't help but imagine actual old pirate ships firing cannons at each other. The thing Anxiety thought funny was the fact that none of them knew how to pilot old ships, and would most likely crash into each other, sinking both of them. Well, it wasn't too off from being in a fandom in the first place, the only difference being that the ships were already sinking.

He was polishing off his second slice of pizza when he heard, "Anxiety, why are you awake?"

Thinking that it was just another audio hallucination, he ignored it, siping at his hot cocoa. It was when a hand touched his shoulder things changed.

He screamed as loud as he could, flinging himself from his chair, and turning to face the monster at hand. Instead of one, he just saw Patton standing there, looking extremely confused.

"Oh, hi, Patton," Anxiety said after he calmed down a bit. "What are you doing awake?"

"I'm about to cook breakfast." Patton looked Anxiety over, making the other self conscious. "What are you doing awake?"

"I got hungry."

"Did you sleep?"

"Yes."

"Anxiety." There was that parental tone that made Anxiety squirm. "Are you lying to me?"

He looked to the ground, refusing to answer the question. Coming to the kitchen was a mistake. He should have just stayed in his room.

He always makes the decisions that end badly. He really can't do anything right can he, and the others will eventually see that, then they'll leave him alone, completely abandon him, and then they'll convince Thomas to take anxiety medication, and if he does that then what would happen to him? Oh, if that happens- what if it makes Anxiety diss-

"Are you with me, kiddo."

He shook his head, clearing those thoughts. "Yeah, sorry." Anxiety shuffled a bit. "Were you saying something."

Patton sighed. "I was just telling you that I'm worried. How are you feeling?"

"Like plastic."

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. He honestly didn't remember what happened after that, but when he was tuned back in he was being tucked into bed, the older personality laying next to him, over the covers. Most likely he was going get Anxiety to go to sleep, then cook breakfast for the others.

"What are you doing?" Anxiety asked him, feeling the others hand playing with his hair.

"This gets the others to calm down quickly. I figured it would work on you too."

Anxiety huffed at the happy go lucky trait, too tired to actually make him leave. All he could focus on was the slight scratch of nails on his scalp, shifting hairs and warm fingers drawing shapes and writing words on his head.

Next thing he knew he was waking up, sunlight pouring into his room, and his bed void of the cardigan wearing parent that had been with him earlier.

He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eye as he gazed around his room. Anxiety wanted to make sure that nothing was out of place. He knew Patton wouldn't betray his trust and go through his things while Anxiety wasn't able to stop him, but he was called Anxiety for a reason. It was never a matter of distrust, it was a matter of being safe.

Nothing was out of the ordinary except for a pink post-it note on his nightstand.

'Hey there slugger, just wanted to let you know that I saved your breakfast in the fridge. Have a good morning's sleep!!

~Dad!

Ps, you look adorable when you sleep! You should do that more often.

Pps, did you know that you are a cuddler? I could barely get you off of me! That's not to say I didn't appreciate the cuddles though.

Ppss, you purr like a cat when someone pets your hair!'

Anxiety wanted to be annoyed at the note, but he was too tired to care. Instead, he just laid down, and went back to sleep.


	2. Father's Day

Father's Day 

Roman wasn't the least bit experienced with cooking. However, today was Father's Day, and considering Patton was the closest to a fatherly figure he had, it was only fitting to do a little something for him. After all, he was a prince! How princely would he be if he let such a special day pass by?

So, he took the time to wake up earlier than Patton normally would, and crept to the kitchen in order to make him a special breakfast. After that, the prince would bestow upon him some candies, as well as a Father's Day card. Then, the grand finale, end the day off with a group movie night, as Patton loved it when everyone spent time with each other.

Roman started off with hash browns, leaving them to simmer in a metal pan while he started cracking eggs into a bowl. The plan was to make a spinach, tomato, and cheese omelet, hash browns, and turtle-shaped pancakes, topping it all off with a tall glass of milk.

After he poured the freshly scrambled eggs into another pan, he quickly ran to the fridge and pulled out the spinach, tomato, and cheese. Roman diced the tomato, and then laid the ingredients on top of the eggs.

After pulling out another pan, Roman set it on top of the stove, setting the burner so it would be ready for pancakes. He checked the omelet, and after seeing they still weren't ready, started making the pancake mix. Roman poured the batter into a turtle shape, and checked the eggs again. They.... weren't even steaming.

He held his hand in the air above it, checking for heat. There was none. Blood rushed to his face as he realized that he, in fact, forgot to set that burner.

Roman fixed his mistake, thanking the heavens that no one was there to witness his blunder. 

Turning to the drawer next to him, he rooted through it to find a spatula. Roman flipped the pancake, humming a merry tune as he checked the eggs again. They wouldn't even be a few minutes! Cooking was easy!

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he saw grey starting to dominate his peripheral vision. The pungent smell of smoke hit him, and he turned to see that his hash browns were burning, badly at that. In fact, it looked like they were starting to catch fire.

By instinct, he reached over and grabbed the handle of the pan, attempting to move it off the burner. Only, things didn't turn out as planned. The heat must have traveled through the metal, because when he grabbed the handle it hurt, a yell of pain breaching past his lips as he flung it across the room.

Tears welled in Roman's eyes as he turned off the stove. He clutched his hand as footsteps sounded in the hall.

\-----------------------------------------

Logan was preparing for bed. He had finished grading tests- which took him longer than he expected- as his students didn't do so well this time. Their floccinaucinihilipilification for studying frustrated him sometimes. They would regret slacking off once they got their grades back.

Before climbing underneath his covers, he checked over his gift one last time. Logan had spent months researching for a gift. Every year he felt like he got the wrong thing. Of course Patton appreciated the effort Logan took to get him gifts, but it always seemed like he was only being kind.

So, he vowed to get the perfect gift this year, something that wouldn't leave Patton malcontented. A tie!

Of course it wasn't a necktie, as neckties were for serious folk. Rather, a bow tie. After all, bow ties were more laid back, more quirky. Especially white ones with blue, glittery stars on them. It was a bit extra, but Patton was also.

He set the gift in his nightstand drawer, hidden away so that Patton wouldn't get an early peak when he woke Logan up for breakfast. After doing that, he went to bed, nervous about wether or not Patton would like his present.

Only a few hours went by when he was awoken by a scream. Logan, in a blind panic, tumbled out of bed and made a beeline into the hallway.

"What's going on?" 

He turned to see Patton running towards him, looking worried and confused.

"I don't know, but it sounded like Roman," he replied, seeing a light coming from the kitchen. "His screams are higher pitched."

He and Patton made their way over to the kitchen, revealing a bashful prince with a charred.... something laying on the floor, still smoking.

"Roman, what's going on?" Patton asked, running over to Roman. Logan settled on using an oven mitt to fan off the smoke. 

"Nothing, I just burned myself. The worst it will do is bliste-" Roman was cut off by Patton grabbing Roman's injured hand away from him, the panic on his face going from bad to worse.

"Uuuuhhh, you're hurt! Oh, what do I do?" Patton started panicking, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he looked at Roman's pink hand.

"Patton, it's not bad!" Roman said, feeling guilt start to rise up. "It doesn't even hurt anymore, I promise!"

"Indeed," Logic was quick to swoop in, quick to soothe Patton's worries. Taking Roman's hand from the fatherly figure, he inspected it. "The color isn't bad, it's only pink. His hand should only blister, nothing else. There's no need to worry."

"Oh, okay," Patton responded, his worry starting to dissipate. "What were you doing, anyway?" He asked, looking around the room. Much to the prince's shame, and Logans amusement, Patton started to squeal.

"Were you making me breakfast?" He asked, looking at Roman excitedly. 

Looking down, he mumbled the affirmative, bracing himself for what was about to happen. With a squeal of, "That's so sweet," he felt himself stumble back as Patton nearly glomped him, and with a smile, he hugged back.

After they separated, Patton turned to Logan, smiling widely.

Logic sighed before saying, "Give me a moment so I can get your gift," and excused himself from the room as Patton squealed behind him. After returning with the bow tie, he accepted his hug, and helped the fatherly figure put it on.

"I love this so much you guys," he said, bouncing up and down on his feet. "What do you say I cook everyone a big ol' breakfast to celebrate!" 

So after breakfast was done, they set the table and started eating when Patton realized something. Anxiety wasn't there. He forget to wake Anxiety! Oh, now he felt bad!

"Hold on, I'm going to get Anx." Before anyone else could respond, he darted off. Hopefully it wouldn't make him sad that they forgot about him. But, being forgotten would made anyone sad.

When he finally approached the door, he gave a small knock. "You awake there, kiddo?" He called. No response came. "Can I come in?" No response. "I'm coming in, alright?" He wasn't given a no, so he opened the door, the creaking echoing in the quiet room.

He let out a breath of relief when he saw that Anxiety was only sleeping with his earbuds in again, and not in the middle of an attack. He stepped inside to wake the darker trait up when he noticed that there was a plush stuffed puppy on the Anxiety's nightstand, and a card that read, 'Patton," lying next to it.

Curious, he opened the card.

'Hey Patton, thanks for putting up with me. I got you this dog to celebrate another year of that.

Love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day.'

Patton smiled, grabbing the puppy and hugging it to his chest. "Thanks kiddo, he whispered, ruffling Anxiety's hair before heading towards the door.

"No problem." 

The smile grew.


	3. National Hugging Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sensory issues and anxiety, a small mention of blood, and minor self deprecating thoughts. The anxiety shown in this is based off of my own.
> 
> This was written before Accepting Anxiety, and has been modified to be up to date.

Today was Sunday, January 21. Patton loved this date, because it was one of his favorite days of the whole year. To many, this date wouldn't even register, as not many people knew what this day even was, but to Patton, today was very special.

Yes, it was National Hugging Day. It was his opportunity to hug all of the other sides with an excuse. Hopefully they all would let him, as Logan and Anxiety weren't really tactile people, and Thomas.... well, none of the sides were able to have physical contact with Thomas, so that was out of the question.

As to how he would do it.... he would have to have their permission beforehand. Roman would be easy, but Virgil was anxiety, and Logan wasn't very comfortable with feelings. But, he had a plan.

\----- 

Roman had just finished helping Thomas with an upcoming video idea. Hopefully everything would come through, and the dangers would love it. Also, they finished planing early, so Roman would have time for quests, and saving princes and princesses, slaying dragon witches, or other such things.

He walked through the halls, heading towards day dream mode when he ran into Patton, who was coming out of the commons.

"Hey there, slugger," he called, bounding over to the royal. "What's shaking?"

Roman smiled, responding, "I'm just heading into daydream mode. You know, just being a hero, like I always am." He struck a pose, making Patton giggle.

"That's neat! Just be careful, Roman. Don't want you to get hurt out there."

"I will be, I promise. Nothing I haven't faced a hundred times before."

Patton nodded, looking a bit more worried. "Alright, whatever you say. Just remember, a hundred times is a hundred, but this is a hundred and one." He bonked his fist against Roman's shoulder. "I just worry."

Roman laughed, saying, "Of course, I know."

A lightbulb flashed in the father's mind. He stretched his arms out, making grabby hands at the prince. "A hug for luck?" He asked, batting his eyelashes at the other.

Roman sighed fondly, and stepped towards Patton, saying, "Of course. Who am I to say no to such a simple request."

He wrapped his arms around Patton, his mind lightening as he felt the others arms squeeze him. As much as he wore his mask of being a macho man, he was actually a big softie. Roman thought that the best thing about saving people was seeing them smile, watching them dance in merriment, and them welcoming him with open arms.

On his quests he was always alone. Alone in harsh times, alone in triumph.

Alone when he was bleeding out on a forest floor.

He's pretty much figured out how to take care of himself. Patch up his wounds and stager onward. But, just because he was used to being alone didn't mean that he didn't want to be coddled.

After a few moments he pulled away, looking at the gleam in Payton's eyes.

"Thank you for the hug, kiddo," he said, his signature shimmy in his shoulders. "See you later!" With that, he continued to skip on his merry way.

With a huff, Roman continued walking.

\---------- 

Ah, what a glorious day today was. No papers to grade, no projects to plan. For once in who knows how long, he finally has a day off. In a teachers life, that was a rarity.

Logan had prepared shacks, gathered blankets, and covered his windows. On days like this, he would relax and watch movies, blogging every mistake and inconsistency that was in it. He would also look out for whether or not the cast was diverse, and whether of not they used offensive stereotypes in it.

Yes, this was one of his favorite past times.

Currently, he was looking though movies, trying to see which one was most suitable for this. Which one would catch his eye?

As he was sorting though the pile, there was a knock on his door. "Logan? You there?"

The logical side sighed deeply. Patton. What insufferable thing would he want this time?

Walking over and opening his door, he asked, "Yes?"

Patton tilted his head, smiling widely. "I just want to say that you've been working hard recently, and wanted to give you a hug to celebrate!" He said, opening his arms widely.

Logan stared in blankly. "I do know that today is National Hug Day, Patton."

The trait quickly deflated, looking like a kicked puppy. "Oh," he said, worrying his lip. "Okay then. I'll just- I'll get out of your hair then-"

"As such, I think it would only be fitting to do as the name implies." Logan steeled himself, stepping out of his room and pulling Patton into a tight embrace. "Happy Hug Day."

The feeling of Patton's arms wrapping around his middle was foreign. Alien to what he was used to. Warmth shot up his spine, burning like a wild fire. His hands shook.

Patton must have sensed this, because he was the one who pulled back first. "Thanks for that, Logan," he said, stepping back. "See ya later. I'll let you get back to it." With that, Patton walked away.

Logan shut his door, promptly locking it. Physical contact has him on edge. His hands haven't stopped shaking, but he paid no mind to it. Pushing feelings aside, he went back to his quest to find a movie.

 

\-------- 

Virgil wasn't having a very good day. For some reason he was more paranoid than usual when he woke up, always checking behind him, and terrified of every closed door. Not to mention, every sound was too loud, every light was too bright. Each touch felt like sandpaper on his skin.

 

He needed something to get this off his mind. Chewing on things helped him elevate stress, but he usually had to get food to do that. 

Chewing on blankets made them wet, chewing on shirts made him smell his own breath, and he was too scared to ask Thomas to buy him a stress toy. So, he just ate.

The only problem with that is the fact that all of his jerky was gone, meaning that he would have to go to the kitchen to get some more. Hopefully this trip wouldn't be too painful. He just wanted to stay in his room, all dark and quiet. Virgil couldn't do that. It felt like lightning was striking the back of his skull, like some unknown force was pulling his soul out from all directions.

Pulling his hood over his face, he began his journey to the kitchen. When he got there, he began looking through his options. 

Potato chips were a no. Too crunchy, too loud. The dark trait couldn't have any pasta either, the texture was softer than he needed.

His eyes shifted, landing on a red package of twizzlers lying on the table. It hurt to look at, but the twizzlers would be his savior.

He grabbed the package, feeling its folds press into his fingers, hearing its rustling crawl into his ears, scratching along his skull. A breath in, a breath out. He could do this.

Virgil, with shaking hands, brought he package to his mouth, and bit down. He attempted to tear the plastic with his teeth, but then the horrid sound of squeaking filled his head. The bag dropped to the floor, the thud making him hold his ears. Frustrated tears welled in his eyes, and he cursed himself.

Was he really so pathetic that he would cry over candy? What would the others think? They would probably laugh at him. He knows he would.

"Are you okay?" The words were muffled. 

Virgil turned to see Patton, unable to speak. He couldn't handle the noise his own throat would bring.

"Are you having an attack?" He whispered, looking at the other in concern.

 

Virgil shook his head no. If anything, he was on the brink of one.

Patton looked to the floor, seeing the candy on the ground, bringing the younger shame. Now Patton knew just how pitiful he was. Surely he would think that Virgil couldn't take care of himself.

"You need that for stimulation, right? To calm you down?" He asked, much to Virgil's surprise. "It balances it out, right?"

Stupefied, he nodded.

The fatherly figure walked over the counter and grabbed a knife from the rack. With as little noise as possible, he created a slit at the top of the package and grabbed a handful, holding them out for the other.

Virgil quickly took them, biting into one of them. Relief took him, and the world got slightly less overwhelming. Don't get him wrong, every problem didn't just magically go away. It only got slightly more manageable.

"Thanks," he uttered in a hushed tone, looking to the ground.

"Can you get back to your room?" Patton asked, to which Virgil nodded. "Alright. Do you want a...." he trailed off. He developed a habit of asking for hugs if any of the others had problems, to which he got more 'no's than 'yes's, but that didn't stop him from asking. However, considering that Virgil was having sensory issues today, it made him feel stupid for asking.

Virgil watched Patton's face crumple. Of course the man would have the saddest pouting face ever. Only, he wouldn't be able to handle that much contact.

An idea fired off into his mind. He couldn't do that! It was completely out of character!

But seeing Patton sad like that was even worse. Besides, he just did Virgil a solid. This was the least he could do.

So, gulping down his fear, he shot out his hand and held it against Patton's. Palm to palm, finger to finger, just resting there, hand outstretched. Then, slowly, he wrapped his thumb around the side of Patton's hand, where the tip of the thumb sitting on the back of It.

"Small hug," was all he muttered, heat rising up underneath his foundation.

Even though he felt like a complete moron for doing this, seeing the soft smile Patton returned was worth it.

Wrapping his thumb around Virgil's hand, he whispered, "Small hug."

A few awkward seconds passed, and Virgil bolted back to his room, haunted by what had just happened. But for Patton, that was the best hug he had had all day.

Smiling to himself, he picked the empty twizzler bag up off the floor.


	4. Off Questing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: gore, blood

'Off Questing.'

That was the note Roman left earlier that morning. That note, with red ink scrawled across, was to let the others know not to worry about him. That note, looking back, was something that almost seemed to ridicule him.

There was no, 'I'll be back later.' There was no, 'I love you guys.' Everything was left unsaid.

Roman coughed, pressing his own hands to he gaping wound on his chest. His breaths hitched, and the horrid feeling of warm blood coating his fingers making him nauseous. 

A battle gone wrong. A beast of horrors that had kidnapped a young prince. While fighting, the wellbeing of the child was his top priority. The boy ran towards the monster in a fit of bravery, and Roman had to protect him. Now, that boy was on his way towards a nearby town, looking for help.

At least, if he made it there.

Tears ran down Roman's face as pain reverberated throughout his entire being.   
What would Thomas do if he died? Roman was an aspect to Thomas, what would happen if he died? How would Thomas go on without creativity? 

He didn't tell Patton good morning. For breakfast, he just sat down and ate without thanking Patton for the effort that making breakfast took.

Logan was someone who kept him from going too far. Creativity needs logic, and every time Logan would naysay anything Roman said, well.... looking back now, he was a spoiled brat. 

In actuality, he needed Logan, but whenever the side reminded him that his dreams were too big, Roman would lash out at him. He never appreciated Logan like he should of, and now he might not get the chance to.

Virgil was a whole different matter. He was anxiety, he held him as back sometimes. His intentions were pure, protect Thomas at all costs. He was something vital not only to Thomas, but to humans and animals alike. Without Virgil, Thomas would have never made it.

All Roman had done was insult him, minus the instance in which the dark trait finally revealed his name.

So, looking back, he wasn't proud of himself. He wasn't happy with who he has been. He regrets being so cruel with the others. Being so egotistical, and pushing the others down.

He was sorry, but they might not ever know that.

A cough, a bit of blood splattering on the corner of his mouth. Each breath was absolute agony. Gurgling along with a moan from the pain. 

Okay, focus, what would he do? What could he do to stall time?

Roman was currently lying on his back facing the sky, the wound splaying across his sternum, and left ribs. If there was blood in his mouth, he could choke, but if he stayed on his back, gravity would slow the bleeding.

But that would mean he would be bleeding internally, which is still bad.

With great effort, he shifted his legs so his body was tilted slightly to the right, his cheek now laying on the ground, and his gaze resting on the trees ahead of him.

Blood would be rushing to the wound from the heart, but that could be catastrophic. 

But, he could allow more blood for his heart if he elevated his legs. It was his understanding that the blood from his legs would start draining to his chest, or something along those lines. 

It was hard to remember, but Logan mentioned it once. 

Roman raised his head, looking around for anything to use. To his luck, a decently sized rock laid about ten feet to his right.

Slowly, painfully, he slid himself across the dirt and mud until he was able to set his ankles on it.

Now what? What could he do?

Racking though his mind, he searched for something to do, anything at all. But, nothing appeared for him. There was no more solutions for him. He was at the mercy of time. He was at the mercy of any kindhearted villager to have the time to help him.

So minutes passed. Drop after drop of blood made the stain in his pristine white suit grow and darken. Looking down, he had never realized that blood was so dark.

It complemented his sash quite nicely, though.

He nuzzled into the dirt, breathing slow, blood pooling on the ground outside his mouth, now starting to drip from his nose. He really should stay awake, but everything has grown so cold, and he was so tired.

With one last tear sliding to the grass, he closed his eyes.  
\----   
Surprisingly, he awoke on a cot. He was bandaged snugly, tight enough that it cut off some circulation. His left arm was numb, but that was probably from the bindings.

Roman had never felt this weak. Earlier he was just in pain, but now that it has been diminished, there was nothing but the dead weight of his limbs. That, and a stale ache coming from his chest. Under the bandages, he could feel that his blood had caked into them before drying. Each breath resulted in a painless tug that disturbed him.

"Hello?" He called, throat raspy. At least there was no gurgle. "Is anyone there?"

"Hold on!" Someone called back. Not even a moment later an elderly woman strolled through the cottage door, carrying vials and other such things. She was not a physician, that much was obvious. Most likely, a shamen, or something like it.

"I see you've awoken. Tell me, do you remember your name? Where you're from? What day you got hurt?"

These were easy questions. "My name is Roman, I am from Florida, and I got hurt Tuesday." A moment of pause. "But, from the way you said it, I'm guessing that it's not Tuesday anymore?"

The woman chuckled. "You'd be correct. It's been four days."

Four days. The others must be so worried.

"When can I leave?" He asked, trying to keep his voice level. He didn't want to show distress. 

"You're here as long as it takes." I'm keeping you until I know you won't die.

"What?"

The woman was solemn. "That wound of yours has gotten infected. Bugs and other such things were swarming it when help finally arrived. Vultures were circling overhead."

Roman swallowed nervously. "But, I will overcome it, right? I mean, I'm conscious, isn't that good?"

"It means you'll feel all the pain, but at least you know what's going on." She sighed. 

"I'll bring some food to keep your strength up. I will try my best to heal you, but I can't make miracles happen. If fate desires to have you, there's no way I can stop that."

Tears welled in Roman's eyes. "But I haven't...."

"I'll go get your food." The woman left, and Roman just laid there, thinking of what he hasn't done.

'Off questing.' How absolutely pathetic.


	5. Expressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: suicidal-ish theme, talk of death

Virgil should have seen this coming, he really should have. Only, he didn't, and now he had to reassure Logan that he, in fact, didn't want to die, and teach him what expressions were.

As he rested his hand on the other's shoulder in an attempt to reconcile him, Virgil's mind flashed back to what lead him to this point.

\--------

Virgil clumsily waddled into the kitchen, one eye squinting from the lights, the other being rubbed by his hand. He ignored the presence of the teacher, who was sitting at the table, phone in one hand, coffee in the other.

The darker trait slowly routed through the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. He grabbed the cereal from on top of the fridge, and poured them both into an oversized mug so that he could take his food back to his room.

As Virgil was making his way out, he brought the mug to his mouth, aiming to take a drink. Only, as luck would have it, he stumbled on air.

He didn't drop the mug, or spill it all over the ground. No, what happened is the mug smashed into his bottom lip, making him hiss.

Logan looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at the scene. However, any amusement he felt was replaced with dread when he heard Anxiety mumble, "I want to die. Just let it happen."

Virgil walked out of the room unknowing of the fact that Logan stared after him.

\-----

Thomas was having another one of his many dilemmas, and -- of course-- the sides were attempting to solve the problem.

What they knew: Thomas doesn't want to go out, Anxiety isn't the cause, and he isn't lacking any motivation to do so. It almost seemed as if Thomas was having a lazy streak.

Roman was the most enthusiastic about getting Thomas out of this funk. "Don't you want to explore the world, and make the most out of your life?" Roman folded his hands together, just imagining their dream of traversing the globe. "Just imagine living out your wildest fantasies, and going on all sorts of adventures! Seeing things that would change your life! It would be a dream come true."

Virgil scoffed, mumbling under his breath, "Jokes on you, my dreams died a long time ago."

Logan, being the closest to Anxiety, was the only one who heard it. No one noticed the concerned look of concern that was painted across his face for the rest of the day.

\-----

After dinner, Virgil was going to throw is dishes away. Yes, they used paper plates and plastic everything else. It was a long story.

Anyway, he quietly tossed them in the garbage can, watching as they disappeared within the sack. 

He jokingly said, "Maybe I should just crawl in too," before heading to his room, leaving a worried Logan behind.

\-----

That night, Virgil felt a force tugging him, like someone wanted his attention. Virgil waited for a few minutes, waiting for the feeling to go away, but when it didn't, he relented.

He grasped onto it, feeling the air warp and change around him. When everything stilled, he was in the commons, Logan pacing back and forth in front of him. The logical side looked frazzled, something that Virgil never thought would describe him. 

"Ah, Anx- Virgil, please, take a seat." He gestured vaguely to the couch beside him.

"Hey, dude," Virgil said cautiously, slowly sinking down on the couch. "You alright? Is the apple juice expired."

Instead of firing off on some tangent, Logan merely straightened his posture, adjusting his glasses a bit. "Virgil- Verge, if you would prefer, I would like to speak to you about something that has been concerning me for a small while."

A moment of awkward silence passed, before he replied, "Sure, man. Whatever you need."

Logan pursed his lips. "I was wondering- well, if you'd- I mean.... I'm not really sure how to go about this- I mean- I've never really done this before."

Please don't be in love with me, please don't be in love with me, please don't be in love with me, please don't be in love with me. "Calm down, Logan. Whatever you need to say, say it. Just rip it off."

Logan folded his hands together, a nervous habit that seemed so foreign on the trait. "It's just.... do you want to die, Virgil?"

The darker trait sucked in a ragged breath, his eyes going wide. "No! Geez Logan- I don't want to die!" He straightened his posture in surprise. "What on earth made you think that?"

"It's just that," Logan folded his arms, hunching his shoulders and looking down. "I hear you mutter these things when you think no one is listening. Things like how you want to die, or about how you're worthless. I just don't understand why someone would say those things unless that's what they are secretly thinking, especially when they make sure that no one else would hear."

Relief passed through Virgil. So that's what this was about.  
His little self deprecating comments was what triggered all of this concern.

"Logan, buddy, I appreciate the concern and all, it's really sweet, but what I was doing all of those times was using expressions."

Logan's brows furrowed, and he seemed like some overgrown child for a moment. "Those are expressions?" The logical trait scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Those are awful expressions Virgil."

He shrugged. "It's not like I made them. I just use them because they over exaggerate the situation enough so it's more comedic than bad." 

Logan shook his head, his face flushed in embarrassment. "Of course. I was just being an idiot doing all of that research, and looking at therapy options, because those sayings are just for comedic purposes."

"No, I wasn't saying that."

"No, Virgil." Logan began walking away. "I'm going to leave, you're going to forget about this, and it will be like this never happened. I just know that if it were different, I would have been doing the right thing."

"Logan-"

"I'm leaving now, good bye Virgil, see you some time later, bye-" and with that, Logan sunk out of the room, leaving Virgil alone in the commons.

When Virgil actually managed to wrap his mind around what happened, he was both horrified and touched at the same time. Sure, it was embarrassing to be in that situation, but to know that Logan would get concerned, that he would talk Virgil through the situation and help him out- it was sweet.

Virgil smiled, and shook his head. For a guy that claimed to have no emotions, sometimes it seemed that he cared the most....

But seriously though, someone needed to teach the dude what expressions were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.... you all....
> 
> I don't do ships or anything, just letting you know, but if you want me to expand on anything, I'd think that would be really neat!


	6. Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: some jerkwad who thinks mean notes are funny

Virgil sighed as he walked into school, Get Scared blaring through his earbuds. People stared at him as he strode by, but he payed it no mind. It was normal to be stared at, it gave him power. When he realized that he could be different, and could survive the world on his own, why would he want to go back?

He would never say that, of course. It was the wrong thought to have, because it was almost belittling to those who liked to be normal, but that's how his mindset was. So, he expected no one to talk to him, and for people's eyes to linger. That was okay.

Virgil stopped in front of his locker and grabbed his first period English book. When he finally closed his locker, he noticed the note that was shoved through the top slits. Pulling it out and unfolding it, the word 'Freak,' scrawled across the inside. "Huh, they were nice this time," Virgil muttered to himself before crumpling the paper and carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. 

He continued on his way to class, sitting in his chair, and preparing for forty minutes of hiding his phone in his English book and reading fanfiction. Class started, class ended, another poem due the next day.

He excelled in English, especially creative writing. What he lacked in math he made up for in English and art. At least, that would be the case, normally. 

Lately, he's had the most intense writers block he's ever experienced. He's written the last few poems about the block, but it's just left a bad taste in his mouth. 

He felt like he was just phoning it in, just writing words on a page with no meaning. It made him feel mediocre. He had a gift for writing, but it was just being wasted away with those worthless scribbles.

Virgil wanted to get inspiration, to get that addictive fulfillment from writing a poem that matched his potential. 

Hopefully this funk would end soon.

Second period he sat at his desk, scribbling squares into his notebook, watching the ink soak in more and more. It was pointless to try and force it. He just had to sit and wait for the idea to come.

Hours ticked by, and before he knew it lunch had rolled around.

He grabbed the surprisingly decent school lunch and sat next to Logan, the only one who dared talk to Virgil.

"Ah, hello Virgil," Logan said, putting his book away. "Excuse me if this is wrong, but you seem to be frustrated. Is everything lit?"

Virgil cringed inwardly at that. At least Logan was trying. 

He just sat down and shoved a handful of fries in his mouth. 

"Ah, I see. The writer's block still there?" An unintelligible grumble in response. 

"You see Virgil, all writers struggle with this," Logan said, resting his elbows in the table. "It is a very common plight, I will say. On assignments I even find it a problem sometimes. You cannot force something that isn't there. You must give it time, inspiration shall come."

Virgil scowled. "Yeah, but it's due tomorrow. How can I give time to something that's due tomorrow?"

"I'm sure you'll find inspiration before then."

Lunch soon ended. The day filtered out. Before long, school had ended, and Virgil was on his way to his locker, when he noticed something. A crumpled paper, lying in the hallway.

After he put his books away, he turned and picked it up. On his way to the trashcan, curiosity struck him. What would did it say? Was it someone's homework? Was it a note for undying love?

He unraveled it, to find one word scrawled across the inside. 'Freak.' Had no one really thrown this away all day? Disappointment settled in him. Screw this, he just tossed it in the garbage can.

When he arrived home, and locked himself in his room, something stuck him.

Freak.

Freak! 

His eyes widened, and he lunged for his notebook. Pulling out his pen, he began to write. Words flowed out with no clear plan. They formed on the page by his spark, not him. At least, that's what it felt like. His mind buzzed with energy. 

When his pen finally stopped moving, he realized that he had wrote five pages. Virgil went back, read through it. Looking at it now, it almost seemed like something he wasn't capable of. That's what it felt like, anyway. 

He wasn't sure why he worked like that. Writer's inspiration worked like that-- he hoped it worked like that-- so he never bothered to worry about it. Much.

The next day, he turned his assignment in, feeling proud of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely haven’t been away for months because of procrastination! That’s nonsense~


	7. Mixing beverages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: almost overdosing on caffeine, lack of self preservation, mention of drugs

Roman sighed as he entered the common room in his college. Finals were here, and every student was freaking out. It was understandable, because he was too. He just looked forward to this treacherous time being over.

At least Christmas break was right after.

He rubbed his tired eyes as he walked to the bar, hoping to grab a cup of coffee before staying up most of the night for his Spanish final. How delightful.

As he neared the coffee maker, he noticed something. There was a guy there- that weird one who loved playing all of the villains in theater- standing there, looking as lively as death himself.  He was standing there, a huge coffee cup in front of him, pouring as much monster in as he could.

Roman's heart shuttered for a moment. The guy was using the strongest coffee, and mixing it with even more caffeine.  That could not be healthy. In fact, there have been cases in which too much caffeine had killed people. 

He set the monster down, and wrapped his hand around the-- not so much coffee-- cup.

Roman became concerned.

"Hey...." For the life of him, he couldn't remember the other guy's name.  "I don't think that's healthy.... Hello?"

 

The man in front of him gave no response to his words, only picking up the cup, and slowly starting to bring it to his lips.

"Really, I don't think you should drink that."

Again, no response. Was this guy on drugs or something?

"Hey buddy," Roman clapped a hand on the other's shoulder-- Jack's shoulder?-- causing the other to whip around towards him. He looked shockingly strange without his crazy contacts or scaly skin. 

"What do you want?" He snapped. Despite the hostility in his tone, there was something tired--almost resigned-- about his words. Even though he was pushing away, he was trying to pull Roman in.

This guy was a known liar, but that's what made him so sinister on stage. Each role fitted him like a glove.

"I really just don't think that drinking that is a good idea," Roman responded, noting that the other didn't even drink it yet, and already had caffeine shakes. He must have loaded himself on coffee not too long ago, which just worsened Roman's concern.  He could not let this happen, because at this point it was a medical concern.

"I'll be fine, it's none of your concern." He said, looking Roman in the eyes. "I've done this before." His eyes darted away for a split second.

Roman shook his head, feeling that the other was being dishonest. He didn't call him out on it, because that would just be awkward. Instead, he just went on with the subject.

"Listen, I can't stand by with a good conscience and let you drink that. I think it could actually hurt you." The other just rolled his eyes.

"I have been up for days studying, and have a final in four hours. I need to cram before I take it." 

Roman sighed. "Listen, I actually think this is a safety risk. I'll call security if you drink it." Those were the words that finally sunk in.

The villain glared at Roman before begrudgingly setting the poison down. He sighed, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. He looked so much more tired after accepting defeat. "If I fail it's all your fault. I've been studying for this final for weeks."

"Weeks?" Roman usually studies for days at most. "If you've been studying for that long, surely you know the material by now."

The other scoffed. "Of course I do, but occasionally I slip up. I need to pass with the top grade if I want to stay the top of the class."

That was a lie, Logan was the top of the class. Roman brushed the thought away. 

"You've studied long enough. At this point, you know what you know. Just go and take a nap. You'll under perform if you skip out on sleeping, even if you did study for weeks on end." Roman said. "Just relax. Personal health is more important than one test."

Again, the other rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I don't need this. I'll study if I want to." As the other walked away, abandoning his drink on the commons counter, Roman got the feeling that Villain would follow his advice.

The next week, finals were finally over.

Roman and his roommate Patton were packed for their trip home, and walked to the parking lot together. 

"Honestly Patton, we need to convince Virgil to come with us for spring break. It's the quartet, not the trio," Roman said, walking with a bounce in his step. He had a two hour drive ahead of him, but that was nothing compared to Patton's ten hour one.

Roman tried not to think about the fact that he would probably lose his friends forever after college.

"Aw, that would be nice! I'm sure he'll come around, kiddo," Patton chimed, smiling at the other. "I'm sure he'll come around. He's just worried about money right now, that's all. I've even offered to help him out."

"Yeah. We could just do what we did last year, and tell him it costs less than it actually does. I have more than enough saved up to cover what he can't."

Patton squealed. "Ah! This vacation will be so fun!"

"Well of course, I only pick--" Roman cut himself off. Across the parking lot he noticed someone. It was Villain-- what was his name-- standing at his car, snake contact lenses and scaly makeup. He didn't appear to be packing, considering the lack of luggage. He was just standing there on his phone, texting someone. 

"Who ya lookin' at, kiddo?" Patton asked, following Roman's gaze.

"He's the guy who tried to die by coffee," Roman said, gnawing his lip. Hopefully the other was actually taking care of himself now that finals week was over.

Honestly, Virgil and Logan were enough to handle with their lack of self preservation. He couldn't help his hero complex.

"Let's go say hi!" Patton said, grabbing Roman's wrist and dragging him over toward Villain. 

As they ran over, he looked up at them in confusion. "What do you want?" He snapped at them.

"We just wanted to say hello! I'm Patton by the say," he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Was this it? Would Roman finally learn the other's name? Was the moment finally here?

The other reached out, and shook Patton's hand, not saying anything.

Darn it!

"How are you planning to spend your break?" Patton asked him. "You going to see your family?"

The other smiled at him. Roman could tell that he put on a facade. "Yeah, it's going to be so much fun!" Why did he lie so much? 

Roman always had a knack for spotting fabrications. Maybe it was because he was an actor, maybe it's because he used to lie all the time as a kid. However, Patton was oblivious, and he stayed quiet to spare the other's feelings.

"That's wonderful. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi!" Patton adjusted his grip on his suitcase. "I have a long drive, so I need to leave now. Sorry!"

Villain shook his head. "Don't worry, you're alright. Drive safe, okay?" They said their goodbyes, and Patton left, leaving the two of them alone. It was then Roman realized Patton's scheme.

Patton always went on about Roman expanding his friend group, because despite what everyone thought, Roman actually didn't have many friends. This was just another of Patton's schemes.

"Sorry about that. Patton is just really friendly," Roman said, laughing off the awkward situation.

"Just seems like a ray of sunshine."

Roman turned to him. "So how are you? You aren't mixing beverages anymore, are you?" He displayed it as a joke, but it was actually a serious question.

Villain rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I do it a lot. You don't even have to be worried about it, I've built up a tolerance." Dear God, Roman hoped that one was a lie.

"Anyway, how are you?" Roman asked. "You staying here for break?"

Villain's nose twitched. "No," lie. Roman felt pity swell in his stomach. "I'm going to spend it with friends."

Roman pursed his lips. "You know...." he felt like he was crossing a boundary. "You don't have to lie all the time."

The other froze. Roman knew that he should stop, but for some reason his mouth kept blabbing. "I get this feeling that you're angry at the world, and you don't need to be. I have this friend that used to be the same way. 

I'm on a time crunch right now, but after break, if you want, we could hang out." He didn't know what else to say, so he turned and headed for his car.

He started his engine and pulled out of the parking lot. When he glanced in his mirror, Villain was gone.

\----

A few weeks have passed. Roman was currently sitting in the commons, aimlessly scrolling through the internet to appease his boredom, when the couch sunk down next to him. 

He glanced up to see Villain, nose deep in a textbook. 

"Hey. Not mixing beverages anymore, are you?"

"Honestly Roman, if you bring that up again I will never talk to you again." The conversation went from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcanon that Deceit would study nonstop, because he would want as much information as he could.
> 
> Since lying is a lot about remembering, and information, it just seemed in character to me.


	8. Droplets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, kitchen malfunctions, first aid, descriptive descriptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious talk, after re-reading it, I noticed that it may remind some readers vaguely of self harm. If you suffer with urges, or the action of doing so, or anything else, I strongly discourage you from reading this chapter. If you do, make sure you have a support system. Make sure you have a plan to stop.
> 
> I don't want to feed into that, and don't want to see anyone hurt.
> 
> Stay safe, and make smart decisions.

Nothing makes sense. Nothing at all. It all is meaningless, the point of human life is to prolong it's species, and provide offspring. He sees that, he knows that, he has always known that. Emotions make our lives seem like they're worth more than they actually are.

Logan's mind whirred. He doesn't know why, but these thoughts have been plaguing for the past few minutes. While these were all realistically true, usually it wasn't this much of a problem. 

It was rather annoying having these thoughts intrude on him while he was studying a new textbook. The quest for knowledge almost seemed meaningless when he was faced with the grim realty of what the human race was actually fated for. Eventually he just slammed his book shut because he couldn't even concentrate on it.

This has been going too long now. Logan realized that he would need assistance.

He reviewed in his mind. Who dealt with intrusive thoughts the most? Who would most likely know how to dissipate the lack of motivation it brought.

Roman most likely did have intrusive thoughts, and they were most likely used to further his creative process. However, he was currently off in his fantasy land, imagining himself as the hero. Logan recognized it to be his coping mechanism, as Roman had a surprisingly low self esteem. The prince used his fantasy land to get the praise that he needed, which was actually a more healthy way to deal with it.... compared with the other sides.

Patton, that beam of mostly sunshine, he was more instinctual. He didn't rely on thought so much, as such he was quickly ruled out. That, and with the fact that Patton would fuss over him with those pesky emotions, Logan thought that the other wouldn't cut it.

Virgil, now there was a possibility. He absolutely was afflicted with problems like these, probably just as much as Roman was. However, he did not have the coping mechanisms to deal with it responsibly. Distracting himself with music, shutting himself away, and letting the feelings fester was not Logan's forte. So, he was scribbled over as well.

Logan sighed, deciding to go get himself a meal and take a nap. Sometimes refreshing one's self was a good way to solve problems one was facing. If that didn't work, he could try taking a swim.

Logan sunk into the commons, and started making his way to the kitchen. On his way, he noticed something peculiar. Little droplets-- red droplets-- on the floor. There were not a lot, but crimson drops were very eye catching. It wasn't as if he would simply not notice blood, because unexplained blood causes alarm, which makes people notice it sooner than when they normally would.

Logan went over and knelt down next to them. They were still shiny. He swiped his shoe over one of them, causing the dried to stay put, and the wet to smear. Partially dried, but very recent.

He stood and looked for more. Drops by the kitchen door, and traveling down an adjacent hallway. Logan peaked into he kitchen, finding it void of life. 

He checked around. No broken glass, no dishes pulled out, nothing that would even make it seem as if anyone was even there. He turned to leave the room, and-- wait-- what was that?

The fridge, the handle. There was no droplets, but here was a small area with a red hue. The incident must have happened here.

Logan started checking cabinets, drawers, trashcans. He noticed that there were some that weren't completely dry. Some that have recently been used. A pan, a knife, a plate, a spoon. He then checked for missing food, and found that there was evidence that the aspect in question was attempting to make pasta from scratch.

Something must have gone wrong, and the side must have accidentally cut some part of themselves with the knife.

But that raised questions. Why not seek help? Why clean everything up as if they were never there? How bad was the cut in question? Who was it?

Logan used what he was good for. Logic.

It was out of character for any of the other three, so it couldn't be one of them. It was someone who didn't want to be noticed, and even though it seemed to point in Virgil's direction, it couldn't be him. 

Virgil never cared to hide his presence when it came to food, because it never seemed to be an issue for him. Roman was gone, and Patton always left a mess. So, Logan concluded that it must have been one of the.... other sides.

It didn't matter. He had to make sure that they were okay, because it could hurt Thomas if they weren't. Not to mention, even if they were more unpleasant, he was able to recognize that they were just doing their job. They didn't have a choice, and Logan wouldn't discriminate against them for that. He learned the error of his ways when he realized how much it hurt Virgil.

So, that left two questions left. Who was it? How bad was it?

Logan spun on his heel, walking out of the kitchen. He began following the droplets, and they lead him down a hallway. Rather than start to slow in quantity, the blood seemed to remain at a constant pace, telling Logan that the cut was deep enough to risk stitches.

They lead to a bathroom, of which the light was on, and the door was slightly ajar. 

Logan knocked on the door frame. "Excuse me, are you alright? I noticed the blood, and wanted to check on you." Intruding without rapping first could lead to undesired consequences.

"Everything's fine, thinky boy. You can leave now." Ah, so it was Deceit. 

"Deceit, I apologize, but since you are literally the aspect of falsehoods, I mustn't take what you say as truth," Logan said, grasping the door handle. "I hope you are decent, because I'm coming inside." Before Deceit could respond, Logan pushed open the door.

There he was, crouched at the sink, holding a wad of toilet paper against his thumb. Blood had already soaked through the paper, and it was steadily dripping into the sink, where a small gathering of it had already gathered. Lying next to the sink, a glove with a slit across the back of the thumb, crimson staining the inside and outside.

"Are you done gawking?" Deceit asked, becoming annoyed with the situation. "It really isn't that bad. I have it under control."

Logan stepped closer. "You really shouldn't use toilet paper. The paper will become wet, and break into the wound. Not to mention, it sits right next to the toilet, making it extremely unsanitary. 

Particles from fe-" Deceit cut him off.

"Listen Logan, I appreciate your-- well, it's not really concern-- your curiosity," Deceit said, putting on his charm. "Don't you have bigger things to worry about right now?" That sentence, that tone he used. He was the source of Logan's current conundrum. 

He shook his head. That didn't matter. Right now, he should focus on the higher priority of making sure that the other was alright.

"Let me take a look at it," Logan said, snatching Deceit's hand before the other could refuse. 

Taking the paper off of the wound, he started to catalog what he saw. Exactly as he feared, paper had soaked into the wound. What was more, it was deep, he could vaguely see the bone. There was a flap of skin that just hung off, most likely from how the knife was angled where it sliced into the skin. Stitches would be needed to help the bleeding stop, and to prevent massive scaring. 

Logan noticed that Deceit didn't argue as he started washing the paper out of the cut, nor did he say anything as Logan conjured medical supplies. 

"Why didn't get supplies for it earlier?" Logan asked, putting an antibacterial agent on the wound.

Deceit cringed as it started bubbling, but answered, "I wanted to stop the bleeding first, then bandage it."

Logan looked up from his work with one eyebrow raised, but didn't say anything. He realized that one wrong word could result in Deceit fleeing. Instead, he just said, "These will need stitches."

The other shook his head. "I'm not getting stitches. I won't die without them. It's fine, just bandage it." Logan tried to persist, but was ultimately shot down. So, after a few minutes of getting the bleeding to stop, and checking to make sure that there wasn't any concerning damage, he wrapped it snugly in the bandage. 

"Now, I trust that you will take good care of this?" Logan asked, looking at Deceit. The other just nodded, his eyes downcast, and his expression more somber.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks." With that, he briskly exited the room, leaving Logan all alone. He forgot his glove,

Sighing, he grabbed a rag and cleaned up the blood. He grabbed the other's forgotten glove and went on to remove the droplets scattered across the ground in the hallway and common room.

After washing his hands, and grabbing a snack, he went back to his room. It was only after he finished eating that he realized that the troubling thoughts had ceased.

His mind raced for meaning. Was- was Deceit using that as some sort of distress signal? Removing the veil of importance to shed light on truth? Did he do that consciously, or unknowingly.

Logan made a note, planning to investigate later.


	9. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Being sick, self loathing, and resentment

Deceit didn't know what he was expecting. He didn't know why he was trying to incorporate himself amongst the light sides. It was a pointless venture, one that was turning more into a hassle.

They forget just how much he does. Thomas' survival is his sole purpose. Deceit was just the one who was willing to do anything to make sure it happened. Anxiety was fight or flight, while he was low for your life.

He was the one who lied to Thomas to make Thomas see the world as better than it was. He was the lies of comfort, the lies to comfort. The lies to feel secure, the lies that make Thomas hope.

Hope. 

He shook his head, wincing at the pain the movement caused. 

Since Thomas was using him less and less, it effected him physically. He started getting headaches, nosebleeds, and was getting sick. Most dark sides dealt with these. When anxie-Virgil used to live with them, he also had these afflictions. 

It also didn't help that the people who liked Thomas's videos mostly characterized him as an abusive monster who only wanted to bring pain to people. That's not who he was, not at all. His soul mission was to keep Thomas safe and happy. He also helped Roman with his stories, and imagination, because even with creativity, without deceit there would only be facts. Only documentaries, no movies. No actors for plays, because actors lie about who they are for their audience.

Then again, he also was the lies Thomas thought about himself, but that was usually when he was under he influence of Self-loathing.

Thomas used him more than he thought, but now it was only for videos, and goofing around with friends. 

No white lie for mundane tasks. Not hiding how you feel in fear of hurting the other person's feelings. It was..... painful.

But he would get used to it eventually. He had to.

It's not like the others would care anyway. And, to be honest, Deceit kind of wanted it to stay that way.

The thing about Deceit was that he also felt embarrassment. That's another reason he lied. He wanted to avoid having to feel it. 

Deceit coughed into his arm, sniffling pathetically, wrapping his blanket tighter around him. What was his temperature again? 103 last time he checked. Had it raised? Had it lowered? He didn't know. Did it matter?

He was a figment of Thomas's imagination, so it didn't really mater if Thomas knew. It wasn't like Deceit was going to die, so whatever. It didn't matter. They wouldn't care.

Deceit closed his eyes, attempting to sleep the day away. That was interrupted when he felt a pull on him, like a force all around his body. This must be what a summon felt like. 

He fought it off, but in his sickened state he couldn't help being pulled off and into the living room. 

"So, Deceit, we need your- whoa! Are you okay?" Deceit winced at the volume of Thomas's voice.

How pathetic he must look, in his pajamas, wrapped in a yellow blanket, his hair messy, and his skin clammy and pale. What shall he do? What is he going to do. Lie, lie, lie, lie.

"Yes, if you must know. I'm fine. I just didn't expect to be summoned." He didn't even have to think about it before he said it. Then again, it is who he was, and who he has always been. 

"Falsehood, you're sick. That much is obvious." Logan, damn him.

"You need to get your glasses checked, four eyes," Deceit said, feeling naked without his usual attire. "Anyway, what did you want?"

Morality, obviously worried, hesitantly replied, "We are going to be a distraction for Joan's surprise birthday party. We need your help to come up with what to do."

"When is this?"

"In two weeks."

"Then let's schedule this later. I was sort of busy before you pulled me out here."

"Falsehood. You're too sick to do anything," Logan said. Deceit really didn't know why that guy got a kick out of calling him out all the time. Did he not know that it took logic to come up with believable lies to tell people? Did he not know that it took logic to determine whether or not lying would give him the best outcome?

Deceit opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off when Thomas asked, "How did you get sick? How are you feeling?" 

"I'm fine!" Deceit immediately knew that the others would not believe a word he said.

"Deceit, why are you lying about being sick?" Roman asked him. Roman was probably the person he was closest to out of the four, but that wasn't saying much.

He had had enough of this. Deceit faded out, and wasn’t very surprised when he wasn't summoned back.


End file.
